


Once Upon A Dream

by soulmateenergy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ballroom Dancing, Childhood Memories, Dreams, Flowers, M/M, Prince Bokuto Koutarou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:15:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmateenergy/pseuds/soulmateenergy
Summary: Somewhere in the creeks and crevices of his tangled mind, his clouded brain, was a memory. A memory of a person he could not remember. A feeling he could not grasp. A name he could not recall.And all that was left was a wisp of a ghost he wished so desperately to touch.(AKA a Bokuaka Fairytale AU where Bokuto Koutarou had fallen in love a total of two times in his lifetime and this might very well be his last)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Once Upon A Dream

What is a dream?

Most would argue that dreams are nothing more than idle fleeting thoughts intruding one’s mind in the most insignificant manner possible. A blur of cross-matched memories with a dash of nostalgia and a pinch of wistful longing added into the mix.  
Trivial. Arbitrary. Inconsequential. An unconscious state of mind that holds no real depth or real world value despite the realistic sensations that leave your heart pounding in the middle of the night as you lay awake at night- trying to remember something. Something.

Regardless of what others may think, however, Bokuto Koutarou believed whole-heartedly that the power that dreams held were paramount and were of utmost importance. Call it a gut feeling, if you will. Or perhaps you may even call him a hopeless romantic. But Bokuto Koutaro knew of the salient nature of these incomprehensible yet vivid visions that blew a kiss upon his grey hair mottled with natural black strands that nestled on the roots of his hair and rested upon the tan skin of his head.

Because Bokuto Koutarou had fallen in love a total of two times in his lifetime.

Once upon a dream.

***

Before Bokuto’s life had been blessed with the frequent visits of these impalpable yet ambrosial recurring dreams, his world was filled with the mundane- so bland and boring to the point where even at the age of golden maturity, he was not able to recall such a meaningless life that was void of any purpose. 

Bitterly, Bokuto realized that this were to be the very foundation which his life would revolve around from now on.

It was time to let his beloved dreams go for tonight was the last night he would be able to drink in the inky jet black vastness of the dimly illuminated sky of his home kingdom, irradiated by the soft glow of young nighttime stars and the gentle light of the resting dimpled moon hanging leisurely in the heavens above. The very last night he was able to indulge in the sweet caresses of this nameless figure haunting his dreams with a saccharine smile.

He shut his eyes. 

This was the night he was to be married away for that was what the second prince was born to become- a mere tool for traditional diplomacy and an instrument worthy of strengthening the empire.

As for why he was to bid his dreams adieu- it wouldn’t be fair in the very least for his future spouse for him to be attached to such an intangible ghost of a person that existed only in the vivid sceneries of his mind’s eye. Even Bokuto, whose wild gold eyes and rambunctious behavior showered a ‘dangerous’ and intense aura about him, knew to be thoughtful to a certain extent.

With an invisible kiss aimed at no one in particular, Bokuto exited his room, windows left open, curtains billowing in the wind. 

“Announcing the arrival of the second prince, His Highness Bokuto Koutarou.” 

And like a fairytale, there stood he- a charming prince donning the imperial colours of white and gold; a glorious satin sash draping across his ivory white uniform, badges of honour gleaming proudly alongside the family crest. Eyes, hundreds and hundreds of eyes, stared in awe as the 20-year old man raked the grey of his hair, carefully avoiding the crown atop his head, like an owl preening his feathers.

Eyes, hundred and hundreds of pairs of eyes. Except one.

Bokuto paused.

His eyes trailed on a figure with hair of ebony black cascading down a slim neck adorned by a beautiful velvet black choker, complimenting the light and dark shades of purple on her long flowy dress which hugged her snuggly at her waist and flowed stunningly like a waterfall down to the tips of her black heels, a wide slit exposing her calves and just a bit of her thighs. And her eyes…her goddamn eyes..

Bokuto forgot how to breathe.

And when their eyes met from across the marble ballroom floor, his heart rattled in the confinement of its steel cage.

For the first time tonight, Bokuto Koutarou remembered to smile.

***

“You-“ Bokuto started, an airy feeling resting upon his tongue. What was he to say? What would he have to do? After all, an angel was staring right back at him, almost as intensely as he did her. “You…”, he trailed on.

The young lady cocked her head, somehow elegantly, to the side. “I?” Her voice was a whisper- faint, quiet, but it was the only thing ringing in Bokuto’s ears amidst the chaotic atmosphere of the people-filled ballroom.

Bokuto stood straight, attempting to reach for the maiden’s hand. “You look beautiful, Miss..?”

As Bokuto was about to place a kiss upon the back of her hand, however, the beautiful lady pulled it away in the heat of the moment. She brushed her pale lips across the sheen of her hand; the sleeves of her arm sheltering half of her dewy face and covering one of her pensive teal blue eyes. Her lips wavered. And then she laughed.

“You don’t remember me, do you, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto’s voice got caught in his throat. The lady looked at him with an unrecognizable expression. Melancholy, perhaps? Or maybe there was an ounce of regret etched somewhere in the teal orbs of her eyes. If only Bokuto could spend the rest of his lifetime searching for the meaning behind those sad eyes pinching the pits of his heart.

And there it was- that saccharine smile. A smile so sweet it was impossible for Bokuto to recognize the ingenuity behind it. A smile that meant sadness-not happiness.

“Goodbye.” She bowed. “To a happy marriage and a happy future, Your Highness.”

In the blink of an eye, she was gone as Bokuto stood pathetically, limply, stuck to the marble floor, racking his brain for an explanation over the overwhelming sense of despair showering his entire body, his entire soul. 

Because somewhere in the creeks and crevices of his tangled mind, his clouded brain, was a memory. A memory of a person he could not remember. A feeling he could not grasp. A name he could not recall.

And all that was left was a wisp of a ghost he wished so desperately to touch.

***  
Dreams.

Have you wondered what those lucid ones of his were about, perhaps? Well..

They were about a boy. And another. Two boys who’ve been besieging Bokuto’s mind since the very beginning. Two lost loves disorientated by a sea of memories and cast adrift in a crowd of people. The only two to pierce through the steel cage of his heart, disregarding its lock, not bothering to search for its carefully-hidden key.

The first was a tale of a first love blooming in the beauty of spring. A meadow of flowers- yellow, purple, green. A blue sky hosting an array of variously shaped clouds. A sun glowing neatly in the pinpricks of the morning sky.

A young boy was humming a tune, Bokuto remembered. A blush of pink kissing the tips of his nose, the boy picked up a handful of azaleas, tucking them tidily into a woven brown basket. Another young boy, Bokuto himself, who had lost himself in a meadow being distracted by carnations, roses and other pretty little things, rushed up to the other, staring with stars in his eyes as he watched him amongst the flowers.

“Are you picking flowers?” Bokuto asked, pointing towards the carnations in the boy’s hand. He ran around him in excitement, legs sporting a multitude of colorful bandages, possibly from running around and picking fights with older boys in the village. 

The boy, clutching his basket tightly, nodded mutely in response at the rather obvious question, face calm and collected- blank with an unreadable expression.

“Let me help!” Bokuto offered, looking at the ground. “These look pretty!”

The black-haired boy looked at him quizzically, though he still made an effort to keep his emotions intact. “Those aren’t flowers.”

Bokuto blinked. “Huh???”

“They’re weeds..”

Bokuto dropped the yellow dandelions in his hands. “They’re weeds? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Deadpanned, the boy replied, “I just did” though not unkindly as the tips of his mouth curved slightly, amused. Bokuto laughed though the boy tried not to.

However, the boy’s reaction had indeed incited a burning sense of curiosity in Bokuto for in the village where Bokuto had been raised, it was rare for a person to hide such obvious emotions and feelings such as happiness, sadness, annoyance, anger. Bokuto wanted to choke out a laugh from him- a bit of rage as well, perhaps, since it was Bokuto’s specialty to illicit such responses from the other boys who lived in his village.

Bokuto looked at the boy with a hum. 

“Y’know, I’ve never seen you around here before which is really weird,” said Bokuto, face scrunched up, looking as if he were in deep thought. “I think I’d remember someone as pretty-looking as you.”

The younger boy looked shocked at the careless words that tumbled out of Bokuto’s mouth. Regardless, he laughed- a light fairy-like tremble that sounded very close to music to Bokuto’s ears. Bokuto grinned, the desire to complete his goal satiated. 

“Pretty?” the boy questioned. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t like to think so but thank you, sir.”

Bokuto gasped exaggeratively. “Sir? I’m probably just about 1 year younger than you!”

The boy giggled again. “Well, you do have grey hair- just like an old man.”

Both boys laughed in reverie.

“In any case, you don’t know me because.. well, I’m not from around here.” The boy bit his lips, black hair spilling across his forehead.

“Where are you from then?” asked Bokuto, curious.

“I don’t know.” His teal eyes looked sad, Bokuto noticed, though his expressions rarely differed from each other. “I travel too much to ever know where I’d belong.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows furrowed. He went closer to the boy, laying his hand upon the other’s petite shoulder. “You can belong here!”

“What?” the boy cried out in surprise.

“Belong to our village!” Bokuto explained. “You can stay here with me and my nanna and we can be a happy family together!”

Although his face remained neutral, the nervous fiddling of his fingers gave him away. “Really?”

“Really!!”

“I don’t even know your name..” He looked away.

“It’s Bokuto Koutarou!” the young boy answered proudly. “Now, will you agree?”

“I can’t.” The boy bit his lip, again. Then he gave Bokuto the saddest smile he’d ever seen in his life.

It was too wide, too nice, too sweet- one too happy to actually be happy. Yes, Bokuto had wanted to see emotion on the blank-faced boy but this was not what he had meant. Despite having a limited vocabulary as most 8-year-olds do, he so badly wanted to find a word that captured and described said smile perfectly.

“Then, let’s be friends forever and you’ll never feel lonely,” offered Bokuto, determined. “Meet me here every day at 8, ok? I promise I’ll never stop waiting!”

“Even if I’m gone for a really long time?” the boy asked, meekly.

“We’re friends aren’t we?” was Bokuto’s response. “That’s why I know you’ll come back to me.”

And with that, they spent the entire day in the warm comfort of the meadows as the sky changed from the brightest blue to a purple and yellow sunset, colours dispersing in the atmosphere slowly as the time ticked by. 

“Hey hey hey,” Bokuto said to refer to the flower boy who refused to reveal his name. “Which flowers do you think suit me most?”

“Weeds,” he dead-panned. 

Bokuto whimpered. The boy laughed.

“Buttercups suit you very much, owl-san,” said the boy, referring to Bokuto’s owl-like features.

“Really?” Bokuto’s eyes sparkled. “Why?.”

The boy smiled sagely. “You’re very..charming.”

Bokuto flushed. He turned away, a spectacular shade of scarlet creeping onto his face. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Hey hey. What’s flower language for you’re pretty?”

“Purple dahlias, I would think.”

“Ok.”

And as the sun went to sleep and the sky turned a beautiful dark blue, their conversation moved on quickly to small talk and playful squabbles until Bokuto presented a crown of purple flowers to the younger boy, letting the brilliant assortment of purples nestle into the blackness of his hair.

The boy looked stunned. And then happy. And then sad. And it was the most expressive the flower boy had been the entire day, noted Bokuto, when the boy hurried to embrace the other, cheeks stained with droplets of salt and water.

“Hey hey hey,” Bokuto comforted. He changed the topic as he rested his chin on the soft black hair below him. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

An air of silence preceded the answer.

“Tomorrow,” the young boy affirmed. “I promise.”

“And I’ll keep my promise too,” said Bokuto, recalling his former vow to never let the younger boy feel lonely ever again.

Alas, the fated day never came to be. Because the next day, Bokuto’s nanna had passed away and it was revealed, in an official letter, that Bokuto was, in fact, the prince of the king and a concubine who had hidden him and herself miles away from the royal palace, albeit separated from each other. 

As Bokuto was hauled into a carriage with velvet red seats and a gold-white exterior, being whisked away to the royal palace miles and miles away from his hometown, he wondered if the boy amongst the flowers still remembered their promise. And for the first time since forever, Bokuto cried.

***

The second dream that haunted the mess that is Bokuto’s mind came in the form of a hooded figure amongst a crowd of other hooded figures in the marketplace. 

One thing you should know about Bokuto is that he was stubborn. Brash. Careless. Impulsive. And being cooped up in the confinements of a heavily guarded castle after being ever so used to the vast free space of the meadows and the chaotic hustle and bustle of the townspeople in his village guaranteed the fact that he would attempt to sneak out one day. 

Yes, he succeeded. But now, he had to face the consequences.

“That’ll be 5 gold coins, Mr,” growled a bearded man, a permanent scowl carved on his face.

“I-“ 17-year-old Bokuto startled. “I don’t have any money.”

“WHADDYA MEAN YOU AINT HAVE THE MONEY?” fumed the taller bigger man, eyes bulging as if it were to pop out of his eye sockets any minute.

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” explained Bokuto, who had so poorly forgotten about the existence of money and tossed a stolen red apple to a few orphans who had been staring longingly at the juicy fruits atop the seller’s wooden table beside him. After all, he was only a child when he was taken away from the life of the peasants- and the palace had no room for education for a mere son of a concubine who was to be married off in the future.

He shivered, smelling the reek of trouble.

“Good sir, won’t you forgive my dearest brother for slipping up just a little?” came the voice of his savior- light, airy and calm. 

Bokuto turned, confused and stopped right in tracks because oh- Oh.

Eyes a shade of cyan, a shade of blue- pretty eyes of a colour he could not possibly place though he’d love to spend hours upon hours looking for that one colour; that ONE colour from a sphere of hues and tones that matched the illuminance of his orbs. A mop of short black hair upon a pretty head that presented a paradox; he wondered why it was that his hair seemed so messy yet neat at the same time. And that smile- an enigmatic ghost of a smile etched onto the pale skin of his pretty face, merely slathered on to remain sage and polite. 

Pretty. He was just so fucking pretty.

“You see,” the pretty male continued calmly. “My brother here has a little problem.. he seems to think that he’s..”

“An owl!” Bokuto offered, snapping out of his stupor, catching onto to the other boy’s subtle hand signals. “I’m an owl. See, Mr? Hoot hoot!”

The seller’s scowl grew deeper. “I couldn’t care less’ bout yer stupid problems, boy. I want my money. Now.”

The beautiful teal-eyed boy batted his eyelashes slowly. “I see.” 

He walked right up to the vendor, inching closer and closer, the distance between them becoming smaller and smaller. He stopped a few inches short before him (Bokuto squirmed silently behind him), palms reached out away from him (Bokuto’s fist clenched instantly as he wondered what the other was doing), barely touching his lips as if her were to blow out a kiss and..

A burst of pink purple dust exploded into the seller’s face covering the entire stall with a rain of pastels as the two figures disappeared into the chaos of the scene. Bokuto felt himself running; faster and faster, his heart leaping higher and higher, the grin on his face growing wider and wider. The grip on his wrist grew tighter as the two swerved into a hidden alleyway, a safe distance from the central marketplace and the loud noise screaming into the atmosphere. They heaved heavily- panting and trying to catch their breaths.

“Why-“ Bokuto managed, regaining his voice. “You-Why did you save me?”

His question was met with silence and a stare. Bokuto shifted uncomfortably.

In an instant, the pretty stranger was just an inch away from him, teal eyes boring into his gold ones, tips of their noses barely touching and hot breaths steaming the skin of their faces; neither of them willing to move away. And just as quickly, the pretty boy was then leaning against the stone wall and sinking onto the floor, black hair sticking to the wet of his forehead as he stared pointedly at the ground, thinking.

Bokuto followed suit, hugging his kness as he stared at the man, bedazzled by his mysterious aura and sudden actions. Would he be mad if he decided to touch his shoulder?

“I thought you were someone else,” said the boy, pulling Bokuto back into reality as he avoided his gaze.

“Who?” Bokuto quipped, he too averting his gaze, heart sinking though he couldn’t understand why.

“Someone,” replied the black-haired boy unhelpfully as he quickly gathered to his knees. He didn’t bother looking back as he said a sentence that caused Bokuto to jolt from the ground and grab the sleeves of the other boy’s shirt in a hurry.

“Goodbye,” he said and it was a sentence Bokuto could not dare accept for reasons unknown to even himself. Why was it that his eyes threatened to swell up in front of this mysterious stranger? It was as if he’d met him once before yet a ‘goodbye’ was something he could not remember exchanging with the foggy figure in the back of his memories.

“No, stay,” Bokuto pleaded, eyes shaking desperately. “I-I have no place to stay.”

“Why?” read the other boys eyes and Bokuto replied, “I’m lost.”

The boy sighed. “I have nowhere to let you stay.”

“Then take me with you,” answered Bokuto, his impulses once again taking charge. The boy was startled.

“You-“ He coughed. “You wouldn’t like it where I’m from.”

“Why?” Bokuto cried out, curiosity eating him alive as the questions in his mind multiplied threefold. 

The boy shook his head and paused, most likely contemplating the very few decisions he could make in such an unexpected scenario. Bokuto held his breath as he awaited his response.

“No.” The boy bit his lip. “But maybe.. maybe I could find you someplace to stay.”

And in silence, the duo walked down the streets in their raggedy clothes with just tiny tufts of hair displayed on their foreheads as the rest of their heads and figures were hidden by their cloaks. A heavy atmosphere surrounded them and Bokuto could swear that he was so close to exploding with an array of questions that he couldn’t ask if he didn’t want to scare the other boy off.

The minutes ate away quickly as the tap tap tap of their shoes clacking on the ground rang out loud while they walked and it took less than two to reach a shabby-looking inn with the unoriginal name “Travel Inn” etched somewhat proudly on a wooden board. The two entered the inn as the sound of a bell greeted their entrance. 

The teal-eyed boy scanned his surroundings, tips of his mouth curving slightly into a subtle frown. He looked confused, ascertained Bokuto who studied the boy’s expressions with intense focus and keen interest. 

The boy turned to him ever so slightly, eyes locking with his. “Wait here-“

BANG. 

Bokuto startled as the boy’s head was slammed onto a wooden table, body writhing and struggling to get away from the aggressive perpetrator who snarled at him in a show of absolute dominance. 

“Oi, slut,” said the man with a glare, a waft of alcohol emanating from his breath. “Who told you you could strip from yer skimpy little costume. Ain’t no hoe gonna pay for a bitch with a dick who can’t even pretend to be a goddamn woman.”

The boy whimpered though it was almost silent under the chaos of the inn, people shouting to “kill the slut” and “make him pay”.

Bokuto’s nails dug deep into his thigh at the slurred profanities directed at his savior, piercing its skin, blood trickling slowly as the heat on the surface of his face grew stronger. Hotter. Angrier. He scowled, a pang of fury taking over his body and contaminating his already muddled mind.

Recklessly and fueled by wrath, Bokuto slammed into the drunken man, head sounding a satisfying craaaack as he pummeled into the hard exterior of the floor, a gash of blood evident on his head. Eyes swathed with a lust for vengeance, Bokuto grabbed the fully-grown man by his collar, not bothering to wipe off the crimson smudging the white of his shirt.

“Who the hell are you?” he asserted, fists clenching harder and cold eyes growing colder. “Who the fuck do you think you are- hitting innocent people like you’re some kind of fucking important big-shot.”

Although Bokuto could not turn around to peep a look at the boy behind him and was unable to scan his features, looking for a sign- anything and everything; a sign that could show him the tiniest shift of his emotions, Bokuto could feel that he was shocked. Confused as well, perhaps. As Bokuto was too. Never had he ever in his life uttered such profound and vulgar words of hate (though he was, by nature, a very wild person) as he had been raised by his nanna to be a polite young boy and was polished by the rules of the castle which constricted the choice of vocabulary he could use. Regardless, he didn’t regret it.

“HAH,” the bloodied man choked out. “Innocent? You think he’s.. pftt BAHAHAH. You think he’s some cute innocent little puppy you picked on the streets, kid? AHHAHAHA WHAT A FUCKING RIOT.”

From the peripherals of Bokuto’s eyes, he noticed as the black-haired boy shifted uncomfortably on the ground, staggering to get up from his position. 

“No..” the boy coughed out, a trembling voice that made Bokuto glare deeper into the black pits of the drunk man’s soulless eyes. “Don’t..”

“He’s a fucking prostitute, kid,” laughed the man. “My prostitute. So unless you wanna hit some yourself then you better scram.”

The man’s obnoxious laugh rang louder in the air as the onlookers in the inn erupted into a mad frenzy, some wolf-whistling at the boy due to the accursed outburst while the others spluttered words of disgust and contempt, nose turning away from the brutally embarassing scene. Bokuto turned around and that’s when he saw it- 

That smile. 

That sad smile that drove him crazy in the worst possible way. A smile he hated to the depths of his soul- a drive willing and wishing him into wiping it off of the other boys’ face because- because-

“SHUT UP,” screamed Bokuto, an animalistic growl escaping from his throat as he savagely punched the man with his burning red fist. “I don’t” he punched. “Fucking” he punched again. “Care.” One last punch. “Because whatever it is I believe that he has his reasons whether it be because he was manipulated by some asshole like you or he really needs the money and guess what?” The man cowered under his burning gaze. “That doesn’t fucking matter.”

And after one last punch, Bokuto was whisked away from a dangerous situation by the cloaked boy who grabbed his sleeve in an effort to tell him to make a run for it. But this time, it was Bokuto who was the danger-a predator willing to bare his claws at the sight of any others as all that was amok his mind at the moment was protecting the vulnerable boy beside him, face once again blank and expressionless yet filled with careful thought.

They turned to a corner, hiding from the eye of the public by shielding themselves in a hidden alleyway just like before. 

“Why?” asked the boy, eyes shining a sad shade of blue. “Why did you stand up for me?”

“I just-,” started Bokuto, heart pounding in his chest. “I just know that you’re innocent.”

“Me? Innocent?” The boy buried his face in his slim hands, long fingers covering the skin of his face. “You heard what he said. I’m a prostitute. A prostitute for men who like women. What kind of innocent is that?

“You’re innocent,” repeated Bokuto, hands slowly drawing out his, entangling their fingers in the most careful way possible. “You’re innocent because you don’t want this do you?”

The boy let out a strangled cry, his blank mask of expression finally breaking. Bokuto pulled him into a warm embrace-hoping that it could calm the rapidly beating heart in the younger boy’s chest.

“I like men,” he confessed. “I realized this much as a child.” Tears spilled onto the blood-stained cut on his cheek. “When my parents found out, they sold me off right away. ‘If you like men so much, why don’t you just become a woman, right?’” 

Bokuto ripped a piece of his shirt to dab the crimson of mixed blood and salt on his cheek. The boy slowly pushed his arm away. “But the stupid thing is, I don’t mind it- the dresses, the corsets- It feels somehow freeing. And yet, somehow ironically, I’m shackled by it’s consequences-a life of prostitution that I never wanted.”

He looked up. “Do I disgust you now?”

“Never.” Bokuto looked at him, eyes serious for once in his life. He paused. 

“Come with me.”

“What?” 

“Come with me,” Bokuto repeated, slowly, tenderly. “I didn’t want to tell you but I live in the palace so you..you can live with me there. We have gold, food-whatever you need and whatever you want. Just don’t cry.” His hands lingered on the boy’s cheek. “I don’t like seeing you cry.”

Their foreheads touched. Their breaths stopped. Bokuto closed his eyes. But the boy pulled away.

“Whats’ your name?” asked the boy, lips trembling. 

“What-“

“What’s your name?” repeated the boy-this time much more calmly, eyes pleading, eyebrows kitted together.

A smarm of anxiety invaded the pits of Bokuto’s stomach. “Don’t tell him” whispered his heart, mind sensing a dangerous outcome if he did. Yet, poor Bokuto had no idea what this flurry of emotions contaminating his body was telling him to do and so the 6-letter word on the tip of his tongue was finally spilled from the edge of his lips.

“It’s Bokuto.” He looked at the black-haired boy hopefully but was then struck by an image that hitched his breath and took just a piece of his soul away in an instant.  
A flash of recognition coloured the boy’s eyes as his hands reached to his lips, covering them in shock, stifling a muted gasp. He stepped away from Bokuto, eyes becoming unfocused as if he didn’t know whether he should look straight at the other boy or look away and if Bokuto hadn’t been focusing as intently on the boy’s figure, he might not have noticed the slight tremble of his legs, covered by the length of his brown cloak.

“I see, Your Highness,” said the boy and in Bokuto’s eyes, he came to the conclusion that he recognized him as the second prince of the kingdom. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“No you aren-“

“I’ll be on my way now,” continued the boy, his invisible mask of politeness returning to the solid features of his face. “I’m pleased to accept your offer but I’ll have to politely decline.” Bokuto shook his head hopelessly. “To a happy future, then, Your High-“

“I told you my name.”

The boy looked to the ground. 

Bokuto continued. 

“I told you my name so..” He looked up. “Won’t you tell me yours?”

Time seemed to cease at the mention of his name. Bokuto forgot to breathe.

Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji. His name was Akaashi Keiji. Akaashi Keiji. Keiji. Ji. Bokuto wanted to say the thousands of variants of names he could call him over and over again. He wanted to run his fingers through that soft black hair of his, lips tingling his petite ears whispering it softly, willing for the other boy to startle in the heat of the moment. He wanted to pull him back into the warmth of their embrace- two souls; each entangled with the other- as he repeated the name repetitively, not wishing to ever forget such a beauty amongst beautiful names.

Alas, such thoughts could only ever come alive in the murky depths of his imagination as Akaashi Keiji gave one last smile, stepping up to Bokuto and planted a small kiss just above his cheekbone. 

“Don’t forget me, Bokuto-san,” he whispered.

And in a blink of an eye, he was gone.

Dreams.

Bokuto had plenty. Yet, he was cursed to forget upon the moment he awakes yet blessed to be able to relive each moment in the fogginess of his mind for yet another night. 

And every night, he fell in love. Over and over, endlessly. And every morning, he reached out for someone. Again and again, needlessly.

The catch was that he could not explain why.

***

It had been little over 6 years since these dreams had started colouring the stark blankness of Bokuto’s sleep with a gorgeous symphony of pastels- purple, gold and serene. And now here he was- a bachelor for the night, fourth finger to be forcefully bonded by an unwanted ring yet heart lingering on two lost loves and beating at the young blossoming bud of a new one. 

“Wait,” Bokuto called out, feet finally obeying the commands of his heart and mind combined.

The boy amongst the flowers, screamed his mind. Akaashi Keiji. Akaashi Keiji, I remember you.

As if he were able to read his mind, the black-haired ‘lady’ turned to him, albeit hesitantly, beautiful teal eyes discretely displaying a mental battle of contemplation as he tentatively raised them to look at Bokuto. His lips formed a straight thin line, masterfully hiding whatever flurry of emotions that were attacking him on the inside, though Bokuto immediately recognized those nervous fiddling fingers of his-an action so casual and subtle that it looked as if he were merely stretching them, tired. An action that only Bokuto could comprehend, the meaning behind it evident to him.

The crowd between them dispersed, making way for Bokuto to approach Akaashi who was as still as he could be; feet planted on the ground.

“If I may, that is. Would you give me the honour of letting me lead you through this dance.” He kissed the back of Akaashi’s hand- an attempt to convey his sincere affection in the simple action. “Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s eyes widened, a brilliant shade of gratifying cyan washing over the teal of his orbs. In a moment of awe, Bokuto almost forgot to dance- though the first few notes of La Valse de L’amour reminded his body to move accordingly; one hand holding Akaashi’s waist gently and the other intertwining his own with the tenderness of the first drop of snow on a winter’s day.

The music was rich and mellow but- Bokuto could hardly focus on the music; eyes, heart and soul hopelessly devoted to the man in front of him, gazing at him adoringly, dancing with him earnestly, hoisting him up ardently. To see that little sparkle speckled in the deepness of his eyes as he laughed- gingerly and almost silently as he twirled, indigo dress billowing about him. They dipped, Akaashi leaning on the hands that supported his weight, trusting fully and wholly in Bokuto- just knowing on instinct that he would never allow him to fall.

Bokuto stepped forward as Akaashi stepped back, their feet joining a playful race of hide and seek- Akaashi the hider and Bokuto the seeker. The laced hem of Akaashi’s purple dress covered the black heels he wore though Bokuto sought to bring them out, make them take bigger wider steps as they dominated the entire ballroom floor, spectators looking at them in awe as the two danced to the rhythmic melody played by the orchestra on the sidelines. And as the music grew more intense, so did their dance as their playful game of childish hide and seek turned into a fervent divertissement of tag, steps matching the others’ in reverence. Quickly. Nimbly. The crowd gasped, letting go of their held breaths as Bokuto, once again, lifted Akaashi up into the air- higher this time- and they both let out an air of laughter.

“So you do remember me?” Akaashi inquired. “How?”

“How could I not?” Bokuto replied.

Akaashi let out a huff of disbelief. “Well, you didn’t remember me before. You didn’t even remember me the first time either, didn’t you?” He stifled a giggle. Bokuto melted. “Though who am I to say that? At that marketplace years ago..I was just as witless- I barely recognized you.” 

Bokuto cocked his head to the side and Akaashi thought him charming. “Well..”

“Well?”

“Do you have dreams, Akaashi?” asked Bokuto. “Dreams so intense that you’d startle in the middle of the night-looking for something and yet you’d never know what it is you’re looking for?” Bokuto watched the marble floor as they moved across it. “Well, now I know who it was I was looking for.” 

“Me?” Akaashi whispered softly.

“You,” Bokuto returned.

Akaashi closed his eyes, allowing Bokuto to fully take the lead in the dance. “Then, were you shocked? When you came to see that vision of a boy you saw in your dreams in such distasteful apparel? One a man shouldn’t have the courtesy of wearing?”

“Never,” Bokuto affirmed, supportively gripping the other boy’s hands to convey his sincerity. “You could wear whatever you’d like- a potato sack for all I care- but you’d best believe that you’d always be the most beautiful in my eyes.”

“I see you’ve never changed, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi as his left foot moved forward, legs showing through the slit of his dress. “Still ever so antiquated with your compliments.” He shook his head. “And yet, I love them all the same.”

“So you do love them?” Bokuto smiled- bright. “I’m glad.”

The music paused and they stared at each other, hesitant to move apart from each other. Before Bokuto had the time to frown however, a cheeky one quickly coloured the pale of his face, eyes shining a mischievous glint of gold as Akaashi raised an eyebrow- curious.

“Akaashi, meet me in the gardens. Tonight,” whispered Bokuto. “Run away with me.”

Akaashi’s eyes widened. “You cant- Bokuto-san, your family needs you.”

“They have no use of me here,” opposed Bokuto. “What good would I do in this kingdom? I am merely a burden they wish to discard by marrying me off.” His eyes drooped- sad. “Please, Akaashi. I beg off you- let me relinquish my promise from all those years ago. You’ve held your end of the bargain so let me do mine.”

“And what is this so-called promise?” asked Akaashi, fingers lacing Bokuto’s, though shaky.

“I promised,” started Bokuto. “That I would never let you feel alone ever again.”

***

Once upon a time, there lived two boys who’s love for each other was unparalleled- a true fairytale that came to life beyond the old yellow pages of a written tale about a prince and a princess. Unlike Cinderella and her prince, they found each other not because of a shoe- life was not that easy. Yet, unlike Romeo and Juliet, their tale of love was not met with such a tragic and unfortunate tragedy.

Instead, their story consists of dreams and a struggle to remember. And it ended with a life of love and a peaceful life hidden in a faraway kingdom, in a grand self-built house just about the edge of a beautiful meadow- one very much akin to the one they first met.

Clack. Clack, went the floor of their balcony as the light pressure of nimble feet adorned with heels danced across the area in a dazed reverence, guided by the gentle support of two intertwining hands and the soft motion of dance. The sky was awash with hints of purple and of gold, tinted by smiling stars, and the wooden walls of their little ‘palace’-their home- seemed a blur as the silent conversation told through intense twirls and fond caresses continued under the night sky. And at once, their humble white garments turned into a magnificent indigo dress and a royal uniform of white and gold as they laughed underneath the stars of the night, thoroughly and undeniably in love.

‘Twas a tale of a love met not once- but a hundred times as two entangled souls lose themselves in the lullay darkness of the night.

Once upon a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first ever Bokuaka- wait no Haikyuu- wait. Actually, it's my very first fanfic EVER HAHA. But I hope you guys enjoy it because I really poured my heart and soul into it because.. goddamn I love Bokuaka sm huhu (but don't we all?). I'd really appreciate any comments and criticims and I'd especially love it if you guys could give me some kudos hehe.
> 
> Also! My twitter and instagram handle is @soulmateenergy so go check it out! I do art too by the way so ehem. Ok! Enough of shameless self-promo though. Have a good day <3 Hope my fic gave you guys good dreamy vibes!


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